Five minutes pass with Sherlock acting like someone with serious road rage issues. At one point he even verbally threatened the traffic lights, snarling at them to change faster. The cabbie was beginning to get fidgety, glancing back every now and then as if questioning Sherlock's sanity.

"Oh for God's sake! What the bloody hell is that woman doing?! Is she applying lipstick? Drive woman! God damn it! I hate people so much, you're all so stupid. Her lips are huge! Does he serious need more enthusiast on them?! Jesus! For God's sake I walk faster then she drives!!" Sherlock shouts, slamming his fist into the seat repeatedly before he slumps in defeat. 

Lestrade didn't have any idea how to comfort Sherlock. It was, after all, Sherlock. The only one who ever got through to him was John, and occasionally Mycroft. In the end the DI settles for saying nothing and just listening to Sherlock as he channels his worry into anger. 

Eventually they pull up outside the graveyard and Sherlock jumps straight out, mumbling to Lestrade about payment while his eyes fixed on the gravestones, searching for something. No, not something, someone. John. 

Getting the message, Lestrade pays the cabbie with a quick flash of a thankful smile. Usually he'd apologise on behalf of Sherlock but given the situation the DI decided Sherlock had every right to be irritable and snappy.

Inside the graveyard the detective was weaving in and out of the graves, heading for the single black headstone sat by a large tree.

When he gets there he looks around for a moment, frowning.

Where was he? Where was John?

For a dreadful second Sherlock thinks he's got it wrong. Although that stomach churning laughter from above quickly eases his worries, slightly. Sherlock tilts his head up, squinting slightly at the brightness of the sky before he realises exactly where John is.

In the tree John was tied up and gagged, Moriarty sat one side of him and Moron the other. Moron had a gun pressed to John's head, looking bored while Moriarty was grinning and seemingly seconds away from clapping his hands like an excited child.

John's suit has been ripped at the collar but other then that Sherlock saw no signs that John may have been injured. John was a soldier, though, he could hide pain. However Sherlock knew he wasn't injured, Moriarty would want Sherlock here when he brings the pain. 

Sherlock growls up at him. "This is tedious, Moriarty"

Moriarty tuts and waves a hand, not pleased with Sherlock's initial response. Moron tightens his grip on the gun, finger settling on the trigger but his facial expression not changing.

"Come now, Sherlock, this is rather fun" He grins down, leaning forward slightly "I feel all high and mighty up here, it's nice. Seeing you so small" He snarls the last sentence, his accent practically vanishing.

The detective just stands for a moment, pursing his lips and clicking his tongue just to spite the spider sitting in the tree. He scans Moriarty. He'd gained some muscle in the months since he'd last seen him, perhaps he'd been doing some more leg work or... Sherlock eyes drift to the man holding the gun.

Sherlock tilts his head to the side, eyes returning to Moriarty. "Interesting.." He smirks, quirking an eyebrow up "You got yourself a pet, then?"

Moriarty grins wickedly "You should think about your wording, my dear detective, some may think that you're implying John is your pet after all"

John sends Moriarty a small glare, hating the way he seemed to think he claimed Sherlock. He didn't.

"No, he's my fiancé" Sherlock chuckles, completely fake but that was only clear to John, Moriarty and Moron didn't know Sherlock's real laugh. "Or did you fail to notice that you decided to kidnap him just before our wedding?"

"Oh, I noticed. I also noticed that ring you've got on is getting a little loose. Hunger strike?" The criminal begins to swing his legs, an amused smirk dancing across his lips.

Sherlock rolls his eyes at his pathetic attempts to get John to doubt him. Sherlock's eyes go to his fiancé then, giving him a small smile. He can see the fear in John's eyes but he also sees the trust and understanding.

John had faith in Sherlock. He knew Sherlock could save him. And by now they knew Moriarty wouldn't be killing anyone. No, he liked to drag out these games. He wouldn't kill John, not today anyway.

"Boss--"

"Patience, Seb" Moriarty cuts off the other man. Sebastian rolls his eyes, receiving a glare from Moriarty.

John raises an eyebrow at his detective, asking him what was going on. Sherlock glances between the two men and shrugs, not caring about the details or specifics of Moriarty and his snipers relationship.

Instead, Sherlock finds himself admiring how calm John was being and how easily he was taking all this. Sherlock wasn't sure to be glad that daily their life trained them for this or not.

Moriarty looks back to Sherlock then with a frown.

"You're growing dull, Sherlock. Dates, proposing, marriage, love. Now, that's te-eee-ee-dious" James exaggerates the last word, using that soft almost singing voice as he makes himself sound like a child, rolling his eyes and sighing as he does.

"Oh, let me guess" Sherlock drawls, acting bored now as he takes note of the line of Mycroft's men that were slowly closing in "You'd prefer me be alone, so you get my undivided attention when I'm on a case. You can't stand being someone's second choice, can you?" Sherlock taunts with his own snarl.

"Well.. Obviously. I am you, Sherlock, a show off, I need an audience. That's the faulty of genius isn't Sherlock? Tell me Sherlock, did you like it when John watched you fall to your death?" Moriarty grins at his own words, knowing he'd sent a wave of pain through both men. "His own private show of Sherlock Holmes' genius plans"

John seems to physically recoil at the words while Sherlock freezes, segments of that dreadful day appearing in his mind. Sherlock could see how it pained John, to remember what it as like to watch his best friend step off a building and fall.

"Yes" Sherlock snaps, clearly irritated "Enough with the dramatics now, I'd like my blogger back"

Another tut from Moriarty "I don't believe I heard the magic word in there"

"Hocus Pocus?" The pale man grins cheekily.

The spider gives a bored sigh "I said word, do learn to listen"

"Abracadabra?"

Moriarty's shoulder slump and he waves a hand at his gun man. Sherlock almost leaps forward, about to shout out and beg for John's life but the man simply pushed himself forward and jumped from the branch before walking away. It wasn't a very high branch but if you were to fall out you could easily break an arm or a leg.

"He's got some issues..." Moriarty trails off before laughing "Some I may have caused, but, eh, what can you do?" He shrugs.

"This is dull, Moriarty. Kidnapped on his wedding day, oh how original' Sherlock mocks with a teasing smile.

The criminal looks up at his surroundings, his sharp brown eyes taking in many things out there. Sherlock doesn't need to turn to know what he's seeing. Lestrade and some of Mycroft's men, standing by and waiting.

Some where likely on Moron's trail but Sherlock doubted they'd find him, that sniper was like a shadow when he wanted to be. Unnoticed and barely acknowledged.. but always there. 

"Hm. Relying on your dear brother Sherlock? Look at all those men, I'm not that much of a nuisance, am I?" He feigns innocence, blinking down at Sherlock like a small child guilty of taking the last cookie would.

"I'm relying on no one. I'm here to get my fiancé back and they're all here to arrest you if they can" Sherlock crosses his arm, showing that the conversation was now boring him.

The detectives eyes briefly flicker to John. His brave little John, sitting there tied up in a tree and still he was perfectly calm. Sherlock couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"If being the key word" Jim chuckles, swinging his legs.

"Other then trying to ruin to my wedding day--"

"Trying?" Jim interrupts with an amused smile.

"Trying." Sherlock glares "to ruin my wedding day, what is this all about? Why bother? There's no puzzles for you to 'watch me dance'. There's no glory, no audience, nothing but a poor attempt to get us to doubt one another" Sherlock blinks at Moriarty's irritated expression "Ooh, I see. You don't like that I'd much rather give John my attention then play these little mind games of yours. You, oh what are the best words to use?, miss me"

The detective smiles triumphantly, loving the way he got under the usually calm spider's skin.

Moriarty grits his teeth, a hand clamping down on John's and squeezing to the point the doctor winced. Sherlock's eyes flicker and he frowns. That wasn't John's shoulder with the gunshot wound. That meant he was hurt. Moriarty had hurt him. Sherlock's own teeth grit as he glares back at the consultant criminal.

"Do not test me Sherlock" He warns in a hiss, stretching his arm so John was titled backwards.

Sherlock knew if Moriarty were to push John out of the tree he could be there to catch the doctor before any harm was done. Sherlock almost tuts at how poorly thought out this plan of Moriarty's was. 

Before Sherlock could say a single smart-arse word he felt someone stood behind him and a gun barrel pressed into his hip. Sebastian was back. He still looked bored and he seemed to find this whole thing more excruciatingly boring than Sherlock.

John squirms then for the first time, making an odd noise around the gag as he takes in the gun being pointed at his fiancé. Moriarty grins again, pride rushing through him, clearly happy he'd finally done something to make the soldier react.

Sherlock remains relatively calm, despite his lack of control.

"If you push John the most he'll get is a broken arm, I honestly have no idea where you're trying to go with this"

The spider doesn't say a word, simply smirks and pushes John back further. If he were to let go John would fall.

Sherlock frowns, not understanding why Moriarty was smiling like this would kill John. Even the doctor himself looked confused. The tree branch was three metres off the ground, four at the most.

Sherlock goes to step forward but Sebastian presses the gun into his rib and grips his shoulder.

"Move, and I shoot" The sniper snarls menacingly.

Sherlock's frown deepens in confusion. Three metres was hardly going to do serious damage to John. So, what was this about? Making Sherlock move to help and having the 'excuse' to shoot him?

Moriarty's grip begins to loosen and John drop briefly before Moriarty grips his shirt again. All the while Moriarty was smirking at Sherlock, his eyes fixing n the detectives face.

Sherlock looks at the floor. There was nothing there, no traps, no spikes, no anything. Just grass. He had no idea what Moriarty was playing at.

He looks up again and returns Moriarty's stare. The spider let's go of John's shirt.

The doctor falls quickly, yelping in surprise around the gag. Sherlock winces at sight but forces himself to stay put, the gun on his hip digging in.

There's a sickening crack as John hits the floor. Sherlock frowns. John's arms are in front of him. It's not his arm or leg that just broke.

Sherlock freezes, taking a sharp breath. His head. He wants to move, but he can't. Plus if he does, Sebastian will shoot. Sherlock's eyes flicker all over his fiancé, letting out a small sigh of relief at the rise and fall of the doctors chest.

"Oops, looks like John hit his head on a rather sharp stone" Moriarty chuckles, jumping down from the tree. He reminds Sherlock of a feline, elegant and graceful without trying.

Sherlock glares at him, trying not to show the worry he felt when John's eyes stayed close. He didn't let it show on his face that he knew this could be a serious injury.

Moriarty just stares back for a moment before he clicks his fingers and walks off with Moron.

Sherlock runs straight to John, lifting him and running towards Lestrade. As he does he checks John's head. There's a dent and lot's of blood. Sherlock's too worried to analyse the wound and instead he chokes a command to Lestrade.

"Ambulance! Now!"